Carrying Her
by DragonKatGal
Summary: *Complete* One-parter. Xander's POV during 'Bring On The Night' after Buffy's fight with the Turok-Han. B/X undertones, but nothing too shippy.


Carrying Her

SETTINGS: During 'Bring On The Night'.

PAIRING: B/X!  

SUMMARY: One-shot from Xander's POV about finding Buffy after her fight with the Turok-Han.

DISCLAIMER: So not mine.

She'd told us she'd be back in an hour.  That had been two and a half hours ago.  So, naturally, we were freaking out in a big way.  Giles, Wills and me left all the Potential Slayers back at Chez Summers with strict instructions to not go outside the house for any reason at all.  

The original Scoobies were on the hunt for the Slayer, and when we stumbled across the body of Annabelle, the little Slayer-wannabe, we knew we had to be close.  When we found smashed up pieces of debris whilst we were wandering through the factory we knew we were even closer.

I would never admit it, but I was freaking out big time.  My heart was pounding in my chest and there's this big ball of nervousness that's just eating me up inside.  And it's not the first time I've felt like this.  I'm sure it won't be the last time I feel like this either.  

We wander through the path of destruction and we finally come to where it stops.  It looks like someone's punched a hole through a wall.  There's bricks and pipes scattered across the ground.  I almost turned away, but something that wasn't supposed to be amongst that pile stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Buffy!"

I raced for the pile, ignoring the shocked looks that I knew I was getting from Willow and Giles.  Throwing brick after brick away from the small bleeding hand that was protruding from the rubble, I felt my heart dropping a little further down as every second passed.

I pulled back a sheet of metal and felt my insides just freeze altogether.

Buffy.

She wasn't moving.  She would have been pale if it weren't for the blood that was covering her face, her hands, her clothes.  My world shattered in that moment.  In the seven years that I have known and loved this girl, this was the third time I had come across her limp and broken body.  Third times the charm.  

The first time I'd found her, we'd been sixteen.  I'd been desperately in love with her, and I'd saved her from death.  I'd brought her back to life.

The second time, when we were nineteen.  She'd jumped from a tower and whether she'd been killed by the fall or by the energy, I'd never really been too sure of.  But she'd been beyond my reach.  I would have carried her away from the wreckage if it hadn't been for Anya clinging to me so tightly.  The job of carrying her had been given to her Watcher.  To her father.

This third time though, Willow and Giles were just looking over my shoulder in shock and amazement.  

I'm the only person who has been there both times that she has died.  I was the only person who had nightmares about the puddle of water that Buffy had drowned in, besides Buffy herself of course.  I was the only person (besides Angel who really doesn't count) who had to go through those moments of sheer torture of finding a loved one who wasn't breathing.  

"Oh, God almighty."

I shook myself quickly out of my thoughts and knelt beside Buffy, tenderly touching her neck, which was badly bruised as though she'd been strangled.  I held my breath, praying to a God who I wasn't convinced had ever listened to me before to listen now.  To spare the Scoobies, the SIT's, the whole world of the grief of losing this girl again.  I was trying to find a pulse and was quickly giving up hope.

Behind me, I heard Willow begin to weep and I knew that Giles was having a hard time dealing with the sight of the usually unbeatable girl lying amongst a pile of rubble with more scars from one battle than she'd ever had over the course of two years.

I pressed into her neck harder, my fingers demanding movement from the artery that I was pressing upon.  Success!

"She's alive!"

It was my proclamation that snapped both Willow and Giles out of their shock.  They both knelt down beside me, Giles gently undoing the buttons of Buffy's jacket, his gentle fingers probing Buffy's ribs.  I watched as he winced, and I knew that Giles had found something that he didn't like.

"She needs medical treatment," Giles said quietly.

I laughed almost involuntarily.  I felt a tear slip down my cheek and without thought, I picked up the bruised and battered girl, surprised that she was so incredibly light.  She stirred, the movement forcing her from unconsciousness.  She struggled in my arms, and I very nearly dropped her.  

She opened her eyes as well as she could, one of them so caked over with dried blood that she couldn't open it.  She squinted at me with her good eye and I felt her body relax.

"Xan?" Her voice was a harsh whisper, and I knew without knowing how that she was having serious problems staying conscious.

"We'll get you to the hospital Buff," I forced myself to whisper.  My throat was clogged with emotion, and I knew that if she didn't pull through, I wouldn't make it either.  

Buffy's death last year had nearly broken me completely.  It was only Anya who had kept me afloat, and that had nearly not been enough. Now, I didn't have Anya.  All I had now was Buffy, Willow, Dawn and Giles.  My family.  The people who had stayed with me through thick and thin.  

Buffy shook her head and whispered only one more word to me before she passed out again.  "Home."

I looked to Giles who looked torn.  He knew that Buffy's aversion to hospitals was a valid one. She'd hated hospitals since she was no more than a child, and she had good reason to not trust the doctors.  They'd declared that Joyce Summers was perfectly healthy and she'd died a little less than a month later.  

Giles looked down at Buffy who was cradled in my arms.  He was internally debating with himself and I knew that his decision wasn't an easy one.  He finally tore his eyes off Buffy and looked up at me, nodding.  We would take her home.

The Summers household which had always been more of a home than my own home had ever been.  Joyce had always fed me, no matter when it was or why I was there.  She'd always had a smile and a few sandwiches for me, and I had sometimes had to literally wrench myself away from there before I overstayed my welcome.

Over the summer, with Willow and Giles in England and with Anya getting her vengeance on, it had been just Buff, the Dawnster and myself for three months.

To say that we got close would be understating things completely.  Old feelings that I'd thought long-since buried had arisen again.  Being in close confines with a stunningly beautiful woman who had in the midst of all the craziness of summer learned to cook (and cook fantastically at that), was appealing.  Maybe it had been loneliness or Anya withdrawal that had started it, but it had ended with me wanting more than friendship from my best friend.

And now, here I was, carrying her.  

Before I even knew we'd begun walking, we were outside the Summers' house, the entire household lit brightly.  I braced myself for the barrage of questions that was sure to come, but walked in the door.  

The SIT's were with Dawn in the living room and every single one of them turned to look our way.  Shocked silence followed.  Dawn was on her feet in an instant, rushing towards us, tears already wetting her cheeks, questions flying from her lips faster than I could process what she was asking.

"Is she okay?  Is she alive?  She'll be okay right?  What happened?  Did that Turok thingy get her?  Are you guys hurt?  She'll be okay right?"

Willow tugged at the young girl and Dawn fell into Willow's arms, the two girls crying for the world of pain that their sister and friend was forced to live in.  We'd never seen her this hurt before.  I'd never seen her this hurt before, and considering I've seen her dead, twice, that is definitely saying something.

"Wills, can you get the First-Aid kit?" I ask, trying for once to be the calm and rational thinker.  

Willow nodded dumbly and pulled away from Dawn.  I turned to look at Giles who was still looking shell-shocked.

"I'm gonna take her upstairs to her room," I explained.

He nodded and followed up after me, leaving Dawn to flounder helplessly for a moment before decisively following us.  

It's strange to think that after seven years of being the Slayer, we're still shocked by the reality of what could happen.  We're so used to Buffy winning, so used to her coming out on top of everything with a quip and a smile that we don't think about the gruesome details of what being a Slayer really entails.  One day, Buffy will die.  The permanent kind of death that can't be undone through science or magic.  The kind that will hurt tremendously.  The kind that may last for several hours, if not days.  

Over the years, I've tried not to think about it.  I've tried not to think about the stark reality of how Buffy's death might play out, but honestly, after seeing Buffy go through the trauma of near death experiences (as well as death experiences) as well as an attempted rape, I know that Buffy's death may not be hard and fast.  I think she knows it too.  

None of us know how it's going to end, how it's all going to play out, but we do know that we all have our parts.  Dawn is Buffy's reason.  Giles is Buffy's rationality.  Willow is her helping hand.  And I…all I can do from this day until the day she draws her final breath, is to do what I am doing now.  

And I am carrying her.

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Hmmm…pointless little fic, but I've been wanting to get that out for days!  Please read and review or email me.  I'd love to hear what you thought! Ta!

K.


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